Wristy Poems | Examples

The Passing Narcissist

I saw him, taller than corn, a high-collared shirt,
and wristy Rolex smile; beguile:  the club, deep-dark
low, and drawing in the rich and not so

and then moving from the brewing bar, the jar of late 
custom, floated to a sofa, sitting and announced,
”here’s the ladies, come to dance,”  
and lacquered whores, employed with fizzy drinks,
circled him like robbers, buy a horse;

And he was hand-made, every detail   Sachs, Dior,
light and shade; what silver spade had so fashioned,
 I do not know, such a loathsome song of self-love,
and  glow?

and later when he left, a monarch rising from his 
borrowed throne, I thought perhaps he wasn’t bad, 
or wasn’t good, nothing you could finger same, and say 
Oh yes, it’s plain!

and he smiled a smile of self- love, not hope, passing me 
as I drank;  and when he’d gone, I fancied I’d seen the Devil;
or the Devil’s name, holidaying fresh from hell; 
and quickly I looked the room;  for candle, book and bell; 
wondering  now  if I’d drawn in, his hellish earthly spell.